


The Adventures of Stiles the Chosen and His Best Friend the Alpha-Prophet: Project Derek “Mysterious” Hale

by i_amtheoutlaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Crack, FEELINGS ARE SHARED, M/M, Truth Spells, bottom!Derek, is really just a huge dork, knots, little bit of, mentions of Stilia, oh yeah and, on the inside, plus a light sprinkle of, public outing, some slight dub-con, sterek, stiles is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was anything that Stiles was born to do, then it was to ask Derek Hale a bunch of random questions. Not that Stiles spent any large chunk of his time thinking about the Derek who lived under the leather jacket and eyebrows or anything. But well, Stiles supposed that God had picked him for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Stiles the Chosen and His Best Friend the Alpha-Prophet: Project Derek “Mysterious” Hale

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=8zocad)   
> 
> 
> Hiaa. I wrote this up for the prompt above. And I’d just like state right now that I don’t really write angst ever, especially for TW because _Derek Hale_ in general is usually about enough drama for me. But I had fun trying this. Which was sort of the problem, I guess. So . . . I have a feeling that it’s going to sound more like a badly staged reality TV show than, y’know, anything that will actually grab you by the feels and keep you on the edge of your seat. I’m pretty confident in the smut, though, so there’s that. 
> 
> ALSO, since I actually wrote Malia into this fic, I’d like to say that I think all the Stilia and Sterek hate going around is stupid. It really doesn’t have to be a thing. Same goes for Stydia. Always.
> 
> That being said, I’d like to place myself firmly on the Sterek side; in case that wasn’t like, perfectly clear, what with all the porn. Um. I do like Malia, though, she reminds me a lot of Castiel and he’s my baby, so . . . yeah. She’s alright, I just don’t really like the way they’ve gone about portraying the Stilia relationship so far. I thought that the thing with the scratching and spooning was really weird. And I’m pretty sure that I’m as kinky as they come. It just felt off. Stiles (or Dylan I guess) really didn’t look like he enjoyed what she was doing to him in my personal opinion. I mean, Stiles was all sorts of fucked up when they hooked up, and I know Davis seems to be making it into a ‘she’s my light in the dark’ type situation, but that’s not how I’m seeing yet. I totally respect those who do.
> 
> And I don’t go around hating on Stilia stuff so please just don’t.

“Wait . . . so you can’t lie?”

Derek got a horrified look on his face. 

Stiles felt his own face breaking out into a grin, but he couldn’t stop himself. That was just too perfect. 

Stiles figured the universe had some kind of giant, invisible scale that had some kind of physics type thing going on that held it in place. 

Not like a karma scale, but not, not like karma scale either, per say. More like . . . Stiles might or might not have caused his best friend to get bitten by a werewolf, but he still wins because God prematurely stole his fucking mom. So. Yeah. Balance. 

But no, apparently the big man upstairs didn’t get that memo. They were NOT EVEN. Stiles hadn’t thought that they were even close to being even for a couple of years now. Stiles’ life was full of crappity-crap via werewolf. And good things didn’t really happen to him. Sure, Lydia Martin finally kissed him. And yeah, sure, he’d also got himself some sexy-times with a superhot coyote. But . . . things were not near even. 

Because Stiles realized he might be a little gay, was definitely possessed (which he was pretty sure was like the mom thing, and set his side of the scale on the fucking ground), and maybe, kind of, sort of got himself claimed as territory. 

He had such bad luck with girls. And boys were worse, really. So, all people. And shape-shifters. What the fuck ever.

At least he’d always have Scott. 

Scott, the saint who brought a light into his life. And . . . right, Stiles did have a point. 

Which was that things seemed to be _finally_ evening out, and if God kept it up, then he could maybe even get on Stiles’ good side again. 

God sent Stiles a mission that day via the alpha-prophet. Scott came to him with his problems, and Stiles realized he was suddenly needed for a greater, higher purpose in life. And who was Stiles to refuse?

Because Derek “Oh-Mysterious-One” Hale had apparently been hit by a truth spell. And that had to be a godsend. 

Because, oh . . . the things Stiles could ask. For the sake of all greater knowledge, of course. 

“Oh . . . oh, oh, oh, sourwolf,” Stiles cackled. “I don’t know where to start.”

Derek glared, then looked to Scott for support. 

Scott, Stiles will give him some credit, actually managed to look a bit conflicted about it, but quickly raised his hands in a sign of defeat, then left the room. 

But since he was a werewolf, nobody was fooled. Stiles knew he was going to be listening from the hallway. Hell, maybe from the parking lot even. Stiles didn’t want to think about his own complete and utter lack of privacy right then, though, it was not of import as Cas would say. No. Derek Hale’s lack of privacy was all that mattered to Stiles in that moment.

Derek stared at him for a second with wide-eyes, then started after Scott towards the front door of the loft and Stiles couldn’t let that happen. He had to at least get a few questions out of Derek first, so he ran after him, and was already shouting out the first thing that came to mind.

“What’s your middle name?”

Derek stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Then he gritted his teeth and answered, “Stuart.”

Stiles snorted, but quickly flailed into action again, because Derek Stuart Hale—oh _god_ —was already turning back around, running towards the door. 

“Wait—what’s your favorite color?”

Derek stopped and it looked forced, but he turned and faced Stiles again. 

“Black,” Derek growled, and was off.

Apparently, all Stiles had to do was keep asking questions and Derek had to stop running, and look at Stiles as he answered them. 

Well . . . If there was anything that Stiles was born to do, then it was to ask Derek Hale a bunch of random questions really fast. Not that Stiles spent any large chunk of his time thinking about the Derek who lived under the leather jacket and eyebrows or anything. But well, Stiles supposed God picked him for reason. 

“How old are you?”

Derek stopped and answered, “twenty-four.”

Derek went to turn, but Stiles was already talking again, “Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Ironman.”

Stiles nearly _died_ (because honestly? _What?_ ), but his falter had Derek three steps closer to the door, so he regrouped as quickly as he could.

“Why’d you turn Erica?”

Derek gave him a weird look even as he answered, “I thought it would make her life better.”

Derek got one step closer to the door and Stiles decided that it was time he turned up the heat. He threw his mind in over-drive, and let his brain-to-mouth filter fade away.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Penguin—“

“Do you watch American Idol?”

“I’ve seen it four and a half times—“

“Do you really think Scott is a bad alpha?”

“He could be amazing, one day—“

“Do werewolves have knots?”

Derek actually looked ill, and Stiles almost felt bad, but he was going too fast to really care. Stiles didn’t actually mean to say that one out loud, though. 

“Just born ones, I think, I don’t really know—“

“What is—wait—have you ever used it?”

“No—“

“Who’s your favorite actor?”

“Either Jensen Ackles or Misha Collins—“

“Ohmygod, _what?_ ” Stiles barked, and Derek opened his mouth to repeat himself, because luckily ‘what’ was still a question, but he was cut off as Stiles asked, “you watch Supernatural?”

“Yeah—“

“Who do you ship?”

“I don’t know what that means—“

“Do you think Dean and Cas want to bang each other?”

Derek opened his mouth and was already forming the word ‘no,’ but then his mouth snapped shut and his brows furrowed.

“You know what,” Derek said, flatly, “that was the first time I ever thought about it, but yeah. Yes. I can totally see it—“

“Do you want kids?” Stiles kind of wanted to stop cutting Derek off, because he never knew if the wolf was going to say more, but he was too scared that any falter would let Derek slip away.

“Sort of,” Derek gritted out. “Though, I don’t ever want to have any of my own—“

“How do you really feel about Peter?”

“He’s an asshole. I want to rip his throat out again. I don’t want him to get near the pack,” Stiles opened his mouth, ready to fire off another question, but apparently Derek wasn’t done. “I don’t want him near me, but sometimes I feel like he’s the only one who truly cares about me, even if it’s only when I’m not in his way. I want to know why he wants you to take the bite so bad. If he only wants to spite me—“

“Do you think I would be a good werewolf?” 

And shit. Why would Stiles ask that? Derek looked ill, like he would rather do anything but answer. Because of course he didn’t think Stiles would make a good—

“I think you’d be good in every sense. I think you’d smell the best, fight the best, run the fastest—“

And wow. Even if Stiles was really enjoying that, he had a feeling if he didn’t keep firing questions then Derek was going to surprise him and slip out the door any second, because he couldn’t have that many nice things to say about Stiles, surely. And yeah, Derek maybe was admitting all these things, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking completely horrified about it. His eyebrow kept doing that kind of twitch thing, so Stiles cut him off again.

“Did you go to college?”

“Yes—“

“What was your major?”

“English studies—“

“Where’d you learn Spanish?”

“School—“

“First wet dream?” Stiles asked and even though he really, really hadn’t meant to say that one out loud, he waggled his eyebrows anyway. He really did want to know. For y’know, like, book writing purposes or something.

“I was—was,” Derek slammed his mouth shut, like he was trying his hardest to keep that one in, and Stiles almost felt bad, but no. He really didn’t. “It was about a human pack member of my aunt’s pack, and I found out later he was my second cousin—“

“You’re gay?” Stiles blanched.

“Sometimes—“

“Have you ever had sex with a dude?”

“Yes—“

“Top or bottom?”

“It depends—“

“Favorite color?” Stiles squeaked out the question as he realized too late that he was frying his own brain with those kind of questions. Besides, that was not what God sent him on this mission to do. No, he was to break down Derek’s wall for the greater good, not learn everything about his sex life so Stiles could fill his wank-bank with enough images to keep him satisfied until he was through college.

“Again,” Derek smirked, the bastard could still be cocky when Stiles was literally dominating his every secret. And yeah, Stiles did not need to think about dominating any part of Derek. “It’s black—“

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“It’s a tie between The Nightmare Before Christmas and Wristcutters.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles absently cheered and that time Derek made it all the way to the door, and had his hand on the knob by the time Stiles regrouped. But he whipped back around as Stiles asked, “you like Wristcutters, dude? Marry me!”

“Yes,” Derek growled and was already turning, but Stiles’ mouth was faster.

“What?”

Derek looked a mix between mortified and constipated as he answered, “Yes, I like Wristcutters. Yes, I will marry you—“

“What—“ Stiles started to ask again, but Derek just started to repeat the same thing so Stiles changed up the question. “Why?”

“Because it’s the greatest movie ever made and because even if I don’t really want to be married, having a life with someone like you is a once and a lifetime opportunity. I wouldn’t want to mess that up by being afraid of my commitment—“

And _what?_ Stiles wished he had time to even think about what Derek just said, but he really, really didn’t. 

“Do you consider yourself part of Scott’s pack?”

“I do, now, yes—“

“Why did you hate us so much when you first met us?” 

“I didn’t hate either of you,” Derek started. “I acted like I did because I had no clue what to make of you two. But I needed Scott in my pack—“

“Was I ever part of your pack?”

“You’ve been my pack since the day I got shot with wolfsbane—“

“How is that even possible? I thought you said I was Scott’s pack?” 

“You were,” Derek said. “But I always considered you pack—“

“Why did you send Erica to knock me out with a brick, then?” Stiles couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone.

Derek eyes flashed gold, “I didn’t tell her to do that, Stiles. She did that because she was jealous and mad. She wanted to get back at me for not kissing her, wanted to get back at you for not drooling over her like Lydia Martin, and she wanted to get back at Scott for picking a hunter over her—“

“She kissed you?”

“Yes—“

“What did you do?”

Surprisingly, Derek looked pretty reluctant to answer that one.

“I ah, I threw her off of me—“

Stiles really wanted to comment (because of course Derek would), but he didn’t have time. 

“Ever given a blowjob?”

Stiles was expecting a scowl, but Derek actually smirked, “yes—“

“What’s your favorite food?” Stiles squeaked.

And Stiles was not expecting that to horrify Derek, but apparently he had a really weird one.

“Laura called it bunny sushi, because she was always a little evil,” Derek started with wide eyes. “It—ah—it’s like, raw bunny rab—“

“No!” Stiles shouted, because he didn’t want to know. Did not. Greater knowledge would to live without that one. “If you could be one Disney princess who would you be?”

“None of them—“

“If you had to choose one?”

Derek stilled and furrowed his brow, and Stiles realized that it was like the destiel thing earlier; Derek had never thought about it before, but he had to pick one truthfully.

“Does Alice count as a princess?” Derek asked, and Stiles let himself take a few deep breaths, because apparently Derek was still stuck since he hadn’t answered the question.

“Dude,” Stiles started, and he really wanted to make a comment about how Derek would be the perfect Tinkerbelle, if they were going _there_ , but he refrained. “She will always be a princess in my mind—“

“Then her.” Derek growled and whipped around.

“What’s the first thing you think about in the morning?” Stiles yelled and failed forward just as Derek opened the door. He turned back towards Stiles and slammed the door with a murderous glare in place.

“It varies—“ Derek tried, but then he hissed out, “mostly—mostly—ugh—you.”

“Me?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded. “Why?”

Derek stayed quiet for as long as he’d managed that day so far. But eventually his mouth dropped open and he gritted out, “because sometimes I think I might be a little bit in love with you, and it’s the most ridiculous thing—“

“You think what?” Stiles blurted and Derek glared. Stiles didn’t think he could honestly handle hearing it repeated—because, what? Derek Hale loving him? That was insane—so he quickly asked, “I mean, why did you never say anything?”

“Because you didn’t ask for me to fall for you,” Derek said, and he sounded less primal, like he’d finally given in. “Because you’re still, somehow, seventeen. Because you could do better. Because I know you don’t feel the same—“

“Don’t you smell it?” Stiles asked, and at Derek’s blank stare he elaborated, “Arousal, I mean.”

“Yes—“ Derek said then cut himself off and it looked like he was holding back a lot more.

“Then how could you possibly think that?” Stiles asked, because seriously, he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t hot and bothered by Derek’s presence. Maybe when the wolf was dying. But that was about it.

“Yeah,” Derek snarled, “you’ve got a boner for the ripped, mysterious, guy in a leather jacket . . . join the fucking club.”

Stiles laughed, but made sure to ask a question through it, “That’s a little conceded, you know that, right?”

“It’s not—“

“But you have to know that it’s obviously more to me than that?”

Derek’s eyes bulged as he asked, “what?”

Derek got that look again, like he had to consider what he was saying before even he would know the truth.

“I—I don’t know,” Derek decided finally, “why do you think I thought about it every morning?”

It looked like Derek was staying, so Stiles took a minute to breathe and think.

“If I stop asking you questions, will you stay?” Stiles asked as he closed the distance between them, which forced Derek to lean back against the door.

“No—“

“Why in the hell not?” Stiles hissed.

“Because you’re too young,” Derek swallowed, “you couldn’t possibly be ready for the same things as me—“

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked.

Derek was still eyeballing the doorknob every few seconds and Stiles was really about to fucking lose it. Derek Hale was so fucking infuriating, and stubborn, and—

“Because I want everything,” Derek had to admit. “Because once I got you, I would need to keep you. And if you ever wanted someone else, I would seriously kill them—“

“What if I said you could always have me?”

“You don’t know that, Stiles, how could you—“

And yep. Stiles was done messing around. He knew what he wanted. He knew that he would never hurt Derek, knew that he’d always stay.

He also knew that there was no convincing Derek of that, so he decided on a different course of action.

“But don’t you want me on my knees for you?” Stiles asked as he reached down and palmed Derek through his jeans. He was surprised to find the Derek was already stirring a bit down there.

“God n—yes, fuck yes,” Derek said, but he was still reaching for the doorknob even as he spoke.

“You’re getting hard for me already, aren’t you? I can feel it,” Stiles asked then, as he dropped down to his knees. He used the opportunity of Derek pausing before he answered, to mouth at the outline of Derek’s hardening cock. 

“Yeah,” Derek breathed. 

Stiles asked Derek if he wanted his lips around his cock before he popped open the button of Derek’s jeans and pulled down the zipper. The answer was yes. As Stiles was pulling down Derek’s pants he asked if Derek thought about it a lot. The answer was yes. Derek’s cock bobbed in front of Stiles’ face and as he licked his lips he asked if Derek had ever wanted something so badly.

To which, Derek answered with a heavy, “fuck no,” even as he was still reaching for the doorknob every chance he got. 

The man had some fucking will power, and if that wasn’t awesomely hot.

Stiles wasn’t even really sure what he was asking anymore, because he was lost on Derek, but his mouth didn’t fail him. It kept on keeping, and Derek was forced to stay and answer. Stiles wrapped up Derek’s cock, and moaned through the question he was asking, because Derek’s cock was fucking perfect and heavy and hard in his hand.

He played with the foreskin—because of course Derek was un-friggin’-cut—as he asked if Derek liked it rough. Derek was moaning out answers at that point, and he hadn’t reached for the door handle in a good ten seconds, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t if Stiles gave him long enough. So, Stiles kept talking, asking Derek anything he could think of, even though all Stiles really wanted to do was take Derek into his mouth.

He couldn’t stop himself from licking at it, though, once Derek started leaking from his tip. So he asked if Derek wanted to taste him, if Derek wanted Stiles to push him to his knees, and shove his own cock down Derek’s throat as he lapped at Derek’s head.

Stiles was panting and stroking and licking all while he tried to stay coherent enough to keep firing questions up at Derek, who was looking so debauched that if the spell wasn’t making him answer, he probably couldn’t have put two words together.

And before Stiles knew it, Derek was cuming. Tensing against the door and shooting Stiles’ face with warm stripes of cum. And shit. Stiles couldn’t do anything besides look up at Derek, and take the wolf in. Derek looked just as fucking gone as Stiles felt, and even though Stiles wasn’t asking anything, he didn’t move. 

He was just looking down at Stiles as Stiles licked at his lip, and tasted the salty tang of Derek on his tongue. 

In the blink of an eye, Stiles was grabbed up by his hair and slammed against the door. He could barely process what was even happening before Derek’s mouth was on his own.

Derek kissed him like he’d been waiting to for years, and Stiles still couldn’t believe that he had been.

But there Derek was, kissing Stiles on the mouth. His smooth tongue tickling Stiles’ taste buds.

Then Derek dropped to his knees and literally ripped Stiles’ jeans down. Derek wasted no time taking Stiles’ cock into his mouth and sucking it down to the base. Stiles was instantly engulfed in pleasure. Derek’s wet, hot mouth around him had Stiles’ orgasm pooling low in his belly after a few slippery sucks.

Then he came. Stiles could feel his dick as it pulsed into Derek’s mouth, he could feel the cum leaving him and coating Derek’s throat. And it ruined him. 

Derek kept sucking until Stiles was a twitching mess, then he finally let Stiles go, and Stiles found himself sinking to the floor without Derek there to hold him up. Stiles belatedly realized he was smiling at nothing because his eyes were still pinched shut. 

As Stiles’ lids fluttered back open, he caught a movement to his right and whipped his head around to see Derek leaping out one of the windows. 

“Ugh, you fucker!” Stiles shouted after him. 

And yep . . . Stiles didn’t see Derek again for another three days. 

Nope. Derek just left him there. Hopped out of the fucking window and left Stiles there. Even without the whole being left part, the experience afterward was still one of the most embarrassing things that Stiles ever had to do.

Because, yeah. He’d maybe forgotten that Scott was listening from somewhere. And also, there was the fact that Derek had literally ripped his pants off of him and shot his load all over Stiles’ face.

But Stiles sucked it up, and covered himself the best he could, because he needed to get the fuck away from there. He thought Derek wanted it, knew Derek did, but being left like that still hurt him. Like, a lot. 

But Stiles did the walk of shame, holding his pants together, and trying not to cry.

When he reached the car, Scott was there in the passenger of his jeep, and Stiles was glad to see that Scott had head phones sitting in his lap. Quite pointedly, if Stiles did say so himself.

Stiles didn’t say anything . . . he just got in and drove.

A few miles down the road, Scott asked, “dude, um, do you want to talk about what the fuck just happened?”

“No,” Stiles said. “Not really.”

“Not even the—“

“Nope.”

Scott hadn’t asked him about it again.

When Stiles got home he took the picture of Derek off his wall and slid it under his mattress. 

And when Malia climbed in through his window that night, sniffing the air, and looked at Stiles with wide eyes, Stiles told her to get the fuck out. She didn’t. She stayed and crawled into bed with him, hugged him close to her chest and told him everything was going to be okay. 

Stiles wished he could love her. He really did. 

Three days later, though, there was no more avoiding Derek. Because even though Deaton had managed to de-spell Derek, they still had a witch to catch. So, Stiles booted up and met the pack at Derek’s loft.

And on his way there, Stiles decided that he wasn’t going to say anything to Derek about it.

But then, well. 

Then Derek wouldn’t even fucking look at Stiles, and he lost it.

Scott was in the middle of a sentence, but Stiles had no clue what he was saying. Stiles just continued to glare at Derek as he cut Scott off.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” Stiles asked, and finally, Derek managed to meet his gaze. 

Only, Derek didn’t look like he usually did. He looked raw, and tired, and his eyebrows weren’t even doing anything. They were just there, on his face, like blank, hairy voids. Half of Stiles wanted to comfort Derek, but the angry half of him won the internal battle. 

Stiles was vaguely aware of Scott smacking his hand to his forehead and the pack around him whispering, but all true awareness he had was pinned on Derek.

Derek, who was sitting on the far end of the couch, straight across from where Stiles was propped up against the wall with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Derek was curled in on himself, muscles coiled tight, and Stiles always wondered how Derek managed to make himself look so small sometimes. He wondered where Derek went, too, when the wolf was glaring at the floor with his own claws dug into his thighs. 

“Like, seriously, though?” Stiles asked. “I did that because I thought you weren’t lying, Derek? Because I _knew_ you weren’t lying. Do you really think I would have done that knowing I’d hurt you? I mean, why do you think I never told _you_ how I felt? I wanted you to think it was just a boner, dude, because I couldn’t even comprehend anything like that actually ever happening.”

Derek didn’t speak, he just looked back to the floor. 

The room was silent, not even a leftover whisper still lingering in the air; Stiles had stolen the show. Great. Stiles tore his eyes away from Derek so he could look around the room to see his friends, he found that all eyes were focused on the floor besides a single pair. 

Malia was so busy watching Derek that she didn’t even notice when Stiles looked over at her. Her eyes were glowing a dull blue, on the verge of burning bright. Yet, she held herself together nicely. Y’know for Malia, that was. She still looked something fierce, not even bothering to hide the fact that her fangs were bared. 

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to Stiles, and she nodded, throwing him some sort of crazy ass animal eye that seemed to portray something along the lines of “I’ve got your back, Stiles, I’ll eat his fucking heart out if you don’t.”

Stiles smiled and nodded to her slightly, but the expression fell off his face as soon as he looked back to Derek.

“Because I thought that you actually wanted me,” Stiles hissed, a little less than coherent, he couldn’t actually remember what he was saying, but he knew he just wanted to hear Derek apologize and give in. Let himself love Stiles. 

“You know more than anyone that I fucking want you, Stiles,” Derek spat, then snapped his mouth shut, like he hadn’t meant to open it in the first place.

“Actually, no, I really don’t,” Stiles pointed out, “because you said you did, then you just fucking took off.”

“You know why I—“

“Because you think I’m seriously that big of an asshole, Derek?” Stiles asked. “I mean, I know I’m a grade A asshole. The type who won’t think twice about commanding you to answer a bunch of embarrassing questions about yourself, but do you really think that I’d use you like that? You honestly think I’d have done any of that if I wasn’t sure?”

“You’re sure now, but—“

“But what?” Stiles shouted. And yeah, he was now off the wall and flailing around. So what? He was fighting for his future.

“But you’ll get tired of me,” Derek whispered. “I’ll just be that guy again.”

“You’ve never been just that guy to me, Derek,” Stiles pointed out, “and what about me, huh?”

Derek furrowed his brow, the stupid fuck.

“How am I supposed to know that you won’t get tired of me?” Stiles questioned. “How do I know that you won’t leave me for broken after you realize I can’t even function for twenty-four hours without medication? When you figure out that I can’t sleep through the fucking night without waking up screaming or ruining the sheets with my sweat? When you finally—“

“Stiles,” Derek growled, and was suddenly right in front of him, wrapping him tight. He was shaking his head and whispering out, “no,” over and over again.

“Yes,” Stiles protested and his voice broke on the single syllable. He belatedly realized there were tears running down his cheek.

Stiles tried to push him away, but Derek just held him tighter, his head was pressed into Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I shouldn’t have run off,” Derek growled. “I’m sorry. I’m just—“

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed. Because that was all he really needed Derek to say. At least there, when they were in front of the whole pack. Little Cub Scout, Liam, looked like he was ready to have an aneurism. But the pack meeting drama was usually ten times worse and twenty times more life-threatening than that, so. He’d just have to get used to it. “And I probably should have told you how I felt, instead of raping you with my tongue.”

“Oh my god,” Scott hissed. “Meeting over!” 

Derek laughed and looked up at Stiles, he was smiling a real smile. He looked so fucking happy and beautiful that Stiles got lost looking at him.

The door banged and Stiles looked over to see it firmly shut, not a soul in sight.

He pounced. 

God, he’d been thinking about kissing Derek for so long, and he was so mad at himself for not kissing Derek more the other day. He thought he’d lost his only chance to shove his tongue down that sweet throat. He couldn’t hold back, he latched onto Derek and pressed their lips together. 

“Stiles,” Derek growled against his mouth as he broke their kiss. He moved to Stiles’ neck and nibbled along his jaw while his hands traveled down Stiles’ body and stopped flat-palmed against Stiles’ ass. 

Stiles shuddered and let himself be pulled closer to the wolf. 

Derek startled a moan out of Stiles as he located Stiles’ Adam’s apple and sucked on it lightly, swirling his head around the knot as Stiles swallowed. 

Then, suddenly, Derek was lifting him up. He hitched Stiles’ legs up onto his hips and Stiles gladly wrapped around him. Derek wasted no time on shuffling over and pressing Stiles’ back against the wall. The cool plaster was hard against him and gave Stiles a perfect excuse to arch up into Derek. 

Under his clothes, Derek was hot and firm where his body pressed against Stiles’ own. The icy hot storm building just along his skin made Stiles feel disoriented and messy on the inside. 

And, yeah. Stiles had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. 

“Jesus fuck, Derek,” Stiles panted, because the wolf was pulling every ounce of sense out of him by mouthing at his neck. 

Stiles gathered a few of his primary wits, though, and snuck one of his hands up to grab a fist full of Derek’s hair. 

Stiles tugged, hard, and the wolf’s head fell back with a small whine. Logically Stiles knew that he shouldn’t be forcing any werewolf to bare their throat to him, let alone ex-alpha Derek Hale, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. 

Because Derek looked amazing with his neck stretched back, and Stiles was mesmerized by the stubble that dusted the long line of Derek’s neck. He plunged forward and licked along the spot where Derek’s thick shadow started to fade away into bare skin before Derek could as much as blink. 

Let alone, like, snap Stiles’ tongue out for dominating him or whatever stupid wolf rule he most likely just broke.

But Derek just whined again, and then whined some more when Stiles’ moved along Derek’s skin, connecting Derek’s ear and the muscle in his neck through a path of bites.

Stiles suddenly felt Derek tug and he absently lifted his arms. 

As soon as the shirt was off and falling to the floor, Stiles latched back onto Derek, but this time he restrained himself from mauling Derek, and instead opted to located Derek’s shirt and pull it over his head. 

It was a mess after that. With Stiles and Derek both bare chested and all over each other. Derek seemed equally as eager as Stiles was to touch . . . and kiss and suck and bite and lick. 

After being pressed against two more vertical surfaces, losing the rest of their clothes, and stopping for a couple minutes to makeout when Derek ‘tripped’ and fell on to the couch with Stiles straddling him, they finally made it to the bedroom.

After that, things went like everything else in Stiles’ life: werewolf fast. 

Derek tossed Stiles onto the bed and went to rummage through his closet. When he came back over to the bed, he settled in along Stiles’ side.

Derek brought Stiles in for a kiss and pressed the lube and condom into Stiles hand. He broke their kiss to look down at the items and frowned. 

“What do you want me to put it on for you?” Stiles asked, silently hoping Derek honestly didn’t expect to open himself up too.

“No, Stiles,” Derek smirked. “I want you to put it on yourself and then fuck me.”

Stiles just stared at Derek. 

“Did you just say . . .”

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Derek groaned. “Don’t make this awkward. Please. Just fuck me. I want you too.”

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles mouth and gave him a small smile. 

But no, Stiles’ brain clearly wasn’t functioning right, and with good fucking reason. Because it sounded like Derek just asked Stiles to fuck him.

With like, his dick.

In Derek’s ass.

Derek suddenly growled and glared up at Stiles. He swiped the items back, and tore the condom open with his teeth, then slid it over Stiles’ cock and quickly lined it with lube. Derek maneuvered them around a bit, and settled on top of Stiles’ hipbones. 

Stiles looked up and moaned. He had to reach up and run his hand along Derek’s chest, Derek looked so fucking awesome on top of him. His eyes trailed downward, his hand was already moving to wrap up Derek’s cock—

“Derek?” Stiles squeaked, his hand stilled a few inches from Derek’s hardness.

Derek looked down and froze. 

“Is that—ah—is that what I think it is?” Stiles asked when it was clear that Derek wasn’t going to explain anytime soon. He seemed content to just stare down at the—ah—the, well—

“Yeah, I think it is,” Derek sighed.

The knot, apparently. 

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked. Because yeah, he read fanfiction sometimes but he thought Derek wanted to bottom?

“It’s like, uh, instinctual thing,” Derek mumbled, not meeting Stiles’ eye. 

“Instinctual, huh?” Stiles chuckled. “Means you’re finally coming to your senses and want to bend me over?”

“What? No,” Derek growled. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you not realize you won this position, Stiles? My wolf is even begging for it.”

Stiles’ dick twitched against his leg and Derek smirked. He then shifted back so his ass brushed against Stiles’ hardness, the bastard. 

“Then why the knot?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, he was still Stiles after all. He fully expected Derek to tell him to shut up, but instead the wolf just looked away and blushed. “It’s not for like, tying me up?”

“Oh, it will tie you up just fine,” Derek growled, but he still looked embarrassed. “But . . . not today.”

“Then why is it even—“

Derek cut Stiles off as he face-planted into Stiles’ shoulder with a loud groan. And ouch. Derek had a hard head—and wow. A _really_ hard knot, Stiles’ brain added helpfully when he realized that the hard line of Derek’s cock was pressed against his belly.

“It’s there now, thanks to you,” Derek explained into the nape of his neck. “It will be there every time, so I can mark you or fill you up . . . unless . . .”

Derek trailed off, Stiles pushed him up so he could look at him as he asked, “Unless what?”

Derek eyeballed him with an unreadable expression for a stretched out moment before pressing a wet kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Unless you’re not there.”

Stiles preened. Honestly, he through his head back as a ripping smile ate his face. The feeling that washed through him at Derek’s words might’ve been better than cuming. Stiles warmed from the inside out. A chill ran down his spine and reached his feet, which caused Stiles to arch up into Derek a bit as his toes curled against the cool tickle. Then Derek grabbed his face and kissed him, as he pulled back he smiled at Stiles, and the barely contained fuzzy that was radiating inside of Stiles burst. It lined his stomach and pooled deeper in his chest.

“So . . . it’s all mine, then?” Stiles asked, he was still smiling, but he felt hotter than ever. And he couldn’t wait to be inside Derek. The knowledge that Stiles was the only one who brought out Derek’s knot gave him confidence. 

Derek nodded and Stiles pushed him all the way back up, so he was once more straight and straddling Stiles’ hips. 

“Can I touch it?” Stiles asked, though his hands had already moved. He barely stopped himself from curling his fingers around it and squeezing. 

“Please,” Derek whined as he dropped down lower onto Stiles and wriggled his ass around. 

Derek’s eyes squeezed shut, but his mouth fell slack as Stiles grabbed up his cock. He went straight for the knot, wrapped his fingers around it, and gave it a few experimental tugs before squeezing it up, hard. 

Stiles got lost in the knot, twisting and pulling, the feel of it swollen—swelling—in his hand. He was vaguely aware of Derek’s whines turning into heated cries as Stiles worked him. Of Derek wriggling down and rubbing against him wildly like he was searching for—

_Oh._

Stiles moaned as Derek finally located his hardness and ground down against it as fast as he could. The member slipped between Derek’s cheeks after a few messy movements and even through the condom, Stiles nearly lost it at the feel of the head of his cock slipping against Derek’s tight heat.

“Errrmygod,” Stiles groaned.

Derek didn’t seem to notice his sudden departure into heaven—that, or he just ignored it—and reached behind himself. He stroked Stiles’ cock once, then twice, and dropped it again. Stiles could feel him doing something else and moaned as he realized Derek was opening himself. His hand brushed against Stiles’ hardness with every thrust.

Fuck, Stiles had to close his eyes, he couldn’t watch, he’d lose it. So instead he focused on working Derek’s knot, trying to pull as many whines as he possibly could from the wolf. Then a few seconds later, for some unfathomable reason, Derek thought Stiles needed him to grab his cock up again and—

Holy fucking shit. 

And yeah. Derek grabbed up Stiles’ cock, lifted his own hips, and sank down on it all the way to the base.

Derek hissed as Stiles cried out, squeezing onto Derek’s cock for dear life. 

Because fuck, Derek was tight. So fucking tight. And warm. And perfect. And did he mention tight?

Stiles was well and truly engulfed by Derek’s ass, the wolf hadn’t even moved yet but Stiles could already feel the buzz of his orgasm pooling low in his belly.

Stiles at least found enough wits to look at Derek, but he could only moan at what he saw. He’d expected to find Derek coiled up and in pain, because there was no way the wolf had worked himself open enough. But surprisingly, Derek was slack and looking back at him, his face like a mirror of all the pleasure Stiles was feeling. 

“Your perfect,” Derek panted as he lifted back up then sank down onto Stiles’ cock again.

They groaned in unison, and after that, Derek showed no mercy. He lifted up and sank back down. Rolling his hips in a flurry of movement as he tried to use Stiles’ dick to reach a certain spot inside himself. 

Stiles’ couldn’t tell if Derek ever found the spot because as soon as he started working Derek’s knot again, the wolf cried out and clenched around him, stealing the orgasm that had been steadily building inside Stiles.

And when Stiles came, his toes curled as he tensed against the mattress. The orgasm felt like it was being ripped out of him. He was instantly warm everywhere, and hot, so fucking hot in Derek’s ass. The force of it nearly blinded him. 

But he managed to keep his eyes open, because he didn’t want to miss a second of Derek. 

Derek, who simply pushed back into Stiles and let him pump as deep into his ass as he could, and for a second Stiles almost forgot he was pumping into a condom. 

Derek stayed there until the last drop of Stiles’ cum and been drained. Then the wolf was pulling off and letting Stiles flop cold and sensitive out into the air before shuffling forward so he was straddling Stiles’ chest. 

He wrapped one of his hands around Stiles own, and Stiles belatedly realized that he was still latched onto Derek’s cock. Derek squeezed, hard, and if Stiles wasn’t so blissed out then it would probably be hurting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he watched Derek on top of him.

The wolf stroked hard, but steady, dragging their fingers down the whole of his cock and back up and over the knot with a slight pop. Stiles could feel the knot harden and pulse only a second before Derek was letting out a broken roar and started spilling out, covering Stiles with his cum. 

The wolf literally came everywhere. Stiles was coated in sticky, Derek babies, which should probably be gross, but for some reason just made him inexplicably happy. 

They would definitely need to invest in some sort of sex tarp, though, because Stiles was not doing laundry every time he made Derek cum—

Which the wolf still seemed to be doing, even as he fell heavily on top of Stiles. 

Stiles ignored the still-dribbling Derek, and wrapped his arms around him anyway. Derek pressed close, and nuzzled into Stiles’ neck, seeming unconcerned about the mess he made of both of their chests.

Stiles was content. He breathed in the scent of Derek’s sweaty hair and tangy cum, while he trailed his hands down Derek’s back. When the wolf finally stopped cuming, Stiles sighed and pushed at Derek’s shoulder.

He rolled off Stiles easily and landed on the bed next to Stiles with a pleased hum. 

“Not running off then?” Stiles said, and though he meant it to come off as a joke, he found that he really wanted Derek to assure him.

“Nope,” Derek popped, his tone was light and playful, one that Stiles had never heard. “You wanted this. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” Stiles sighed. “Now carry me to the shower, big guy.”

Derek did. They showered and afterwards, they put the sheets in the washer and snuggled up together on the couch. Stiles let Derek ask him whatever he wanted to know, and answered everyone truthfully.

**Author's Note:**

> You can’t bring me down, Jeffy boy!!!! STEREK FOREVER EVER.  
> Still open for prompts, leave them on [my tumblr](http://i-amtheoutlaw.tumblr.com/)


End file.
